Prompt: Why I Write

I write to be crazy. I write to be sane. I write because I can. I write because it’s the one thing no one can take from me. I write because it’s the one aspect of my life no one else can control. I write to the angels. I write to the demons. I write to share ideas. I write to communicate. I write to be quiet. I write to clear the muck from my mind and spirit. I write to improve my writing. I write to fill the gaping hole in my mind. I write to fill the gaping hole in my heart. I write to find peace. I write to bring quiet to the fears. I write for the adventure. I write for happiness. I write for joy. I write for love. I write to find myself. I write to understand. I write to question. I write to grow. I write to evolve. I write to help others. I write to make peace with the things I cannot control. I write as a spiritual practice. I write to find light in the darkness. I write to honor life. I write to tell people’s stories of experiences. I write to imagine and visualize possibilities. I write in solitude. I write in community. I write within my comfort zone. I write to venture out of my comfort zone. I write to find courage. I write to find strength. I write to find hope. I write to still the fears. I write about home. I write about places. I write about oceans and beaches. I write about farmhouses and barns and windmills. I write about cool watermelon slices with family on the porch. I write about trains. I write about writing. I write about living. I write about dying. I write in remembrance. I write to heal. I write to forgive. I write to give thanks. I write to forget. I write as an act of faith. I write out of my anger and into my passion. I write to find truth. I write to uncover untruths. I write because it makes me smile. I write because it makes me laugh. I write because it makes me cry. I write because it makes me think. I write because it makes me feel. I write for the stillness and slowness. I write through the eyes and heart of a child. I write through the eyes and heart of the old soul. I write through the fears to the freedom. I write because it frees my spirit. I write on purpose. I write past the fear of stepping out into the light. I write to find out for myself, once and for all, if words can ever be enough. I write to influence and create change. I write in the church. I write in the park. I write in the library. I write in the coffee shop. I write amidst the busyness of life swirling all around me, threatening to consume me. I write to save myself. I write to lose myself. I keep writing through it all, until I suddenly realize the urgency and the need of the writing itself, the need to be brought forth out into life, into existence. I write passed the doubts and uncertainties that try to cause me to feel like this list is meaningless. I write because I am aware of the power in this, the beauty, the spirituality. In Why I Write, Terry Tempest Williams says, “I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient.”